


The Prophet and the Apostate

by High_and_blue_sky, midnightprelude



Series: What We Have Lost [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Okay some stuff is sad, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Varric Tethras Writes, but mostly happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-09-06 00:50:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20282668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/High_and_blue_sky/pseuds/High_and_blue_sky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightprelude/pseuds/midnightprelude
Summary: After half of the copies of "Swords and Shields" available in Ferelden were bought up in the course of a weekend, which, by the way, Varric strongly suspects a former Seeker of orchestrating, Varric's publisher changes his mind about the commercial success of romance novels. Varric decides against reason to indulge the whims of his readership, or at least one particular reader."Seeker, I've got something new for you," he says, unable to suppress a grin. He holds out a bound copy towards her.The normally disdainful look she reserves particularly for him is immediately wiped away as she snatches the book from his hands."It's got everything you like--a world in ruins, broken promises, a doomed love, and..." He winked. "An ample amount of snuggling."She looked down at the title, embossed against the leather in gold. Her eyes were wide when she returned his gaze."Oh, you better not breathe a word of this to them." Her lips curled into a conspiratorial smile.He nodded, turning away. "Oh, don't worry. My lips are forever sealed."





	1. A Spot of Tea

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of one-shot Solas/Lavellan love in no particular chronological order that either take place before the main events of [Into the Imperium](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19660141/chapters/46569769) or for whatever reason don't fit into the story. Mostly in response to Tumblr drunk writing prompts. Which, by the way, you can send me [here](https://midnightprelude.tumblr.com/ask)! Anonymous asks are also welcome, so don't feel shy! 
> 
> Also, I don't spend too much time editing these to give myself more time to work on ITI and typically write them while a bit tipsy, so ya know. Typos and the like.
> 
> Chapters are as follows:  
1\. A Spot of Tea: Inquisitor Lavellan tries to find a drink that Solas will actually enjoy. Solas POV. Occurs some time between the Haven Fade kiss and the balcony scene.  
2\. The Dread Wolf’s Missive: Solas receives a letter from Skyhold. Solas POV. Between defeat of Corypheus and Trespasser.  
3\. Stargazing: Lavellan and Solas get a rare moment away from Skyhold. Lavellan POV. Between the balcony scene and Crestwood...

A door creaked and Solas stood quickly. He had fallen asleep at his desk again, face lying directly on the book he had been studying. He absently hoped that his face didn’t harbor any of the telltale red lines of an awkward sleeping position. He’d not have his visitors think he was sleeping while the world was ripping itself apart.

He tried, poorly, to suppress a smile when he saw who was approaching his workspace. It was late when he had begun working and it was later now. Still, the Inquisitor may be the only one in their entire party who slept less than he did. He was glad to see her, even at such a strange hour.

_If I’m truthful, the hour is quite irrelevant. Seeing her would please me, no matter the time or place._

While he tried to hide his expression, her own smile would have been visible from across the room. It was only _slightly _mischievous. He caught himself lingering just a moment too long on her eyes. He was fascinated how they seemed to adjust based upon the lighting—green one moment and blue the next.

He didn’t notice the tray she was carrying, until she stumbled, nearly spilling its contents across the stone floor. He passed through the Fade briefly, just long enough to catch both her and her burden as she fell. His left hand underneath her tray and right supporting her shoulder, he helped her steady herself.

His eyes met hers for an instant and they both started laughing. Whether it was the lack of sleep or the near brush with calamity, he could not say.

Seeing that she had recovered, he dropped his hand from her and clasped them behind his back, not wanting to linger too long. “I thought all of your training as a warrior would make you slightly less clumsy.”

“And _I _thought that all of your time in the wilderness alone would make you less chivalrous,” she retorted. “It seems both of us are destined for disappointment.”

He nodded, eyebrows raised. “Perhaps some may call it that.”

“Oh, and you wouldn’t?”

“That still remains to be seen.” He gathered up the books scattered across his desk, sliding artifacts back into drawers to make room for her gift. “I see you’ve brought more than just clever comments. What do you have there?”

When she smiled, she did so with her entire body. Her shoulders softened, lines appeared near her eyes and mouth, her nose pulled to the side ever so slightly, and a small dimple appeared seemingly from nowhere.

_She looks too glorious happy to be in the position she’s found herself in. Leader of the only line of resistance against the end of the world. If only… _

“I… may have made a terrible mistake, but it will need to be tested anyway.” Her words shattered his reverie, pulling him back to the waking world. She sat her tray upon his recently cleared desk, silver lid concealing whatever was inside.

“Oh? And how am I to be involved with this experiment?” he said, head cocked slightly to the side.

Her smile turned into a mild grimace. “I’ve… made you something. It was probably a dreadful idea, if truth be told. Now that I’m standing here before you, I think I regret it.”

He shook his head, laughing. “Whatever you’ve got in there must be _awful_ if you, our illustrious Inquisitor, are afraid to even show me.”

She sighed, leaning her head back. “It’s tea.”

“Tea?”

“Yes, tea.” She moved to pick up the tray from his desk.

His hand caught hers, preventing her from taking it away. “I thought we’d discussed this. I don’t like tea.”

Sighing again, she nodded. “I _know_. You just drink it to stay awake. I thought that maybe it simply has never been prepared correctly for you. I’ve seen what you drink—black as charcoal. No wonder you don’t like it. I became friends with an Antivan merchant for a brief time when I was representing my clan to the viscount of Wycome. He made tea for me once—spiced with cinnamon and softened with cream—and I’ve never taken it another way since.”

“You made it yourself?” He found himself smiling, despite the likelihood that he’d soon find himself consuming tea for the sake of consuming tea.

She nodded, finally lifting the lid of her platter. “I hope you like it, but if not, I also pinched half a cake from the kitchen.”

He saw that she had not been kidding. Half of what must have been a frosted monstrosity sat next to a simple silver teapot, two small cups adjacent. “What did you do with the other half?”

“I lost a bet to Sera.” She laughed, shrugging. “I’m sure she’s off stuffing her face somewhere. Probably throwing bits of cake at people from a bannister. Who can really say?”

“Well,” he said, lifting the pot and pouring two generous cups for the both of them. “To Sera, then.”

She took her cup, lifting it and touching it gingerly to his. Her eyes followed him as he pressed his to his lips.

_It’s actually quite _good.

He eyed her suspiciously. “I think there is something more in here than just cream and cinnamon.”

“There may or may not be a touch of spiced rum in there…” The conspiratorial look in her eyes told him all that he needed to know.

“The tea is surprisingly pleasant. I cannot say whether it’s due to the cinnamon, or your alcoholic intervention. Despite your attempt to spike my drink, I may or may not be starting to like you. There are so few in this world for which I can say the same.” He smiled freely and was pleased to see that his smile was reflected in her own features.

She raised her eyebrows, laugh lines still clearly visible in her face. “Solas, you need not play coy to attract my attention.”

“And you need not get me drunk to wish to spend time with you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Her smile was nearly enough to make his heart stop.

_This woman will end me, if I allow her to. _


	2. The Dread Wolf's Missive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas receives a letter from an agent stationed at Skyhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between Corypheus's defeat and the confrontation in the Crossroads.   
Prompt from high_and_blue_sky! Thanks for the amazing suggestion. I'm gonna go cry now.

“What news do you bring me of the larger world?” he said, barely glancing up from the fire he had started.

“My lord, there are the recruitment numbers, supply chains, some political matters that require your attention.”

He looked up, finally, meeting Cassian’s eyes. The Dalish man’s gaze turned downwards.

_I wish they would not need to fear me so. _

“Anything else?”

He messenger nodded. “Word from Skyhold. A letter for you.”

_Skyhold_.

His heart quickened, trying not to think on the contents.

He extended his hand, and Cassian offered him a blank piece of parchment. Once it left the other elf’s hands, the ink began to appear, slowly. A letter meant only for his eyes.

“Thank you. You may leave me. Fen’Harel ma ghilana.”

“Dareth shiral.”

It had been months since he had heard news from the Frostbacks. He tried to tell himself that it was better to hear nothing than to be alerted of an emergency, particularly as he was likely too far away to be of immediate use.

He had almost convinced himself of it. He broke the wax seal and the letters appeared before him.

_F.H.,_

_I know you said to use this messenger strictly for the work. I thought about keeping this to myself, but thought you would want to know. It is a silly thing, really, but I know you’ve grown fond of sentimentality of late. _

_The Ambassador had organized a small gala—very exclusive—to entertain the visiting Orlesian dignitaries. Our mutual friend seemed reluctant to attend, but when she descended the stairs of the Great Hall, all eyes turned to her. Even my own, I am ashamed to admit. She was truly radiant. I would end the report here, but know you would probably have my head if I deigned not to describe her more fully. _

_She was robed in the deepest crimson, which contrasted beautifully with her pale skin. The gown itself was simple—no ruffles or embellishments. I must admit, they weren’t needed. Her neckline plunged lower than was strictly decorous, but I am sure that no one was offended by the display. _

_You would have thought her beautiful._

_I am sorry._

_Dareth shiral._

As he finished the final words, a scene unfolded before him. A simple enchantment and common in Arlathan, but startling all the same, if only because of its contents.

There she was, as stunning as he had described her, iridescent and glowing in the moonlight. He saw she had begun to grow her hair out; it likely would have landed below her shoulder blades had it not been intricately braided. She seemed thinner than he remembered, her face drawn and lined.

When she entered the room, she did not smile, despite every head in the keep turning towards her. She wordlessly descended the stairs, like a goddess fulfilling her duties, but no more.

He heard Josephine’s words ring out in his mind, as though the Antivan stood right next to him. “And allow me to announce Inquisitor Lavellan, Herald of Andraste, Savior of Thedas, and my dear friend. We welcome you to our humble station to celebrate our combined victories. Without further diversion, allow the festivities to officially begin!” She lifted her arm higher than her ruffled sleeves would have normally allowed and an unseen band began playing.

A masked man he didn’t know bowed deeply to the Inquisitor, offering his hand. She accepted it graciously, if not eagerly. He led her in a dance, his movements graceful. She knew the steps, followed diligently. He tried to speak with her, but her usual charm seemed off. She offered little more than a few words. After the first song, her expression was clearly pained.

As if summoned, a tall man cut into their dance, whisking the Inquisitor away. He saw the man’s face as he turned, it was none other than Dorian.

He imagined the conversation the two of them must have had before the evening began.

“I do not wish to busy myself with such foolishness. I’ve work to do and it doesn’t involve dancing,” she must have said.

Her friend would have tutted, frowning. “You used to love this sort of thing. Perhaps it’s precisely what’s needed to cheer you up. Halamshiral seemed to…”

“Halamshiral was a different world than the one we currently find ourselves in.” She would shake her head, turning from him.

Dorian would move closer towards her, perhaps offering a gentle touch. Maybe he would place a hand on her face. He never was afraid of showing her affection, even if it was entirely platonic. “My dear, you know that this entire event is for _you_. Josephine cannot simply allow you to sit it out, moping.”

“I cannot,” she may have said, tears welling in her eyes. He was horrified at how easily he could imagine her crying.

Dorian would smile, holding her hand. “What if we make a deal? You dance with the fools and I’ll sweep in to rescue you should it become too much.”

She would eventually relent, knowing the necessity of keeping up appearances. He would leave her to dress. And he would keep her promise the entire evening.

It was a solace, at least, to know she wasn’t completely alone.

_She has a luxury in that that I do not. _

He sighed, allowing the vision to continue. Dorian spun her in circles. Whenever another man came too close, he would ferret her away. An untrained observer would think they were lovers. He was certain that there would have been rumors amongst their guests about the dashing Tevinter magister who had seemed to sweep the stern Inquisitor off of her feet.

He knew better. Dorian loved her, clearly, but not in the way they expected.

The vision ended as suddenly as it began and he was alone again, in the mountains, staring at a piece of parchment.

He looked towards the sky and wondered whether they would see the same constellations in the heavens. Was she watching, waiting, thinking of him? It was late, she could very well be asleep.

He sighed, frowning.

_I’m a bitter fool, but there is only one way to know. _

He sat, his legs crossed one over the other, closing his eyes.

When he opened them again, he stood on the balcony that used to lead to his own chambers. He saw a figure, leaning over a desk, long hair dangling.

She looked up and saw him nearly immediately, shock registering in her expression. She glanced around, as if trying to tell if she was awake or dreaming.

_Even knowing better, I often find myself wondering the same._

She turned towards him and he saw that she was dressed as she may have been when they had known each other, but noticed that she had started wearing a new accessory since he had left.

A simple leather band, terminating in a wolf’s jawbone hang heavy on her neck.

_She has not forgotten. _

She moved to him, nearly breaking into a sprint.

He shook his head.

_Even here, in the Fade, it cannot be_.

“Solas, wait. Don’t leave me…” She was close now, almost encircling him with her arms.

He opened his eyes in the waking world, leaving her alone in the Fade, clutching at empty air.

He stretched out a single leg, wrapping his arm around the other knee. He still held the letter in his hand, willing it to show her again.

As she spun in circles in another man’s arms, he imagined her smiling, holding him instead.

For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to weep.


	3. Stargazing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene takes place somewhere between the balcony scene and (tears) Crestwood!  
From the following prompt from thevikingwoman on Tumblr!  
Welcome to DWC !!! ‘The way you said I love you’ - When we lay together on the fresh spring grass. For any DA: I characters!

“And what is the name of that one, over there?” She lifted her arm to point to a constellation sparling brightly in the night sky. The evening was clear and they’d had the unusual opportunity to spend the day hiking together, away from the lights and sounds of Skyhold, off into the wild surrounding the fortress.

Spring had finally come, melting away the frost covered mountains slowly at first, then all at once. The grass had begun to grow back a few weeks ago. She had woken early for a meeting with Josephine, only to find the woman had fallen asleep a few feet away from her desk, Leliana laying on an adjacent couch. Several empty bottles of wine sat scattered before them. She took that to mean that their meeting was cancelled and instead went to find Solas. The weather was perfect and she had not wanted to waste it.

“It’s hard to tell what _precisely _you’re pointing at from all the way over there,” he responded. After a full day of walking, they had eventually grown tired, sitting together on the grass. Luckily, Solas was a better planner than she and he had brought ample food and drink for them both. She had been starving and the wine had made her a little dizzy.

She took it as more than a suggestion to close the gap between them. She sidled over until her side was directly touching his. She took his hand in hers, pointing again. “That one. Do you see now?” She could feel his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“No, I’m still not sure. Closer still, I’m afraid.”

She sat up, staring at him, eyes wide. “Any closer and I’ll be on top of you!”

Grinning wickedly, he looked up at her laughing. “Is that a problem?”

“Solas, I…” She was not sure what to make of his advance. Usually she was the one to initiate, with him inevitably backing away. Perhaps it was the wine. She had not seen Solas drink since she had known him and was surprised to see he brought two bottles of wine with them.

“Too forward, I see.” He nodded. “That formation of stars is called ‘Fenrir’ by the Tevene. White wolf, in Common.” He turned his hand, conjuring a figure of a wolf and superimposing it upon the night sky. She was always amazed how the ancients saw figures from the seemingly random patterns of lights, but when he showed her she could no longer _not _see it. Even after his image faded, leaving only the stars behind.

She lay back down at his side, resting her head against his chest, leaning her stomach against his side. He was warm against the cool evening air. More importantly, he was close and made no move to leave. To extricate himself from the intimacy they both longed to share.

_At least, I think he wants it as much as I do. Even if he tries to hide it._

“Are the stars we look on tonight the same as they were in the time of Arlathan?”

He stiffened beneath her. “I beg your pardon?”

She looked at him curiously. “In the Fade, did you ever see the stars when you traveled to ancient elven ruins? Do you think they’re the same?”

He nodded, relaxing again.

_Strange. _

“The elves believed that particular arrangement represented one of the Evanuris. Fen’Harel, to be precise.”

“May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent.” she breathed.

He sat up, looking at her curiously. “You have opinions on Fen’Harel? Legends and the like?”

“My Keeper said that he deceived the rest of the gods, keeping them from the People.” She considered, nuzzling against his chest. “Though I sometimes wonder. I have a hard time believing that one of our gods tricked the others out of the world. It seems so strange that they would turn on each other in such a fashion. They are supposed to be wise and just. Even Fen’Harel is not _all _bad, I would imagine.”

“An interesting take. I fear we’ll never know the truth of the stories.” He pulled her tighter, wrapping his arms around her. He smelled of grass and ink drying on parchment. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with him.

She sighed, content for the first time in months. If only they could stay there, together. “I am glad that you came with me. I was not sure what your reaction would be to shirking our duties, even if only for a day.”

He laughed, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I would follow you to the end of the earth.” Pulling her closer, he whispered in her ear, words as soft as the grass they rested upon. “Ar lath ma vhenan. There is no other soul I would rather spend my time with than yours.”

She turned over, rolling off of him. She swung her leg over his and sat on his stomach, straddling him from either side. Their eyes met briefly. She could make out the glint of gray in them, even in the moonlight. His freckles stood in contrast to his pale skin, even cast in shadow.

_There is simply no other option. _

She leaned in to kiss him, her body pressing into his. He held her, both steadying her and bracing her against himself. He tasted even better than he smelled—she could sense the faintest hint of wine lingering on his lips. Her hands found his cheeks, holding his head in place from both sides.

_Just in case he tries to leave._

He kissed her eagerly, like it was the first time again. Perhaps it could even be considered so—as far as she was concerned, Fade kisses didn’t _truly _count.

He electrified her, her heart quickening as though shocked by lightning. She wanted to melt into him, to become so close that all the magic in the world couldn’t separate them again.

_He is my home. Skyhold may be the place where I rest my head, but he is where my heart belongs. Vhenan, he calls out to me. He has the truth of it. _

“I’m afraid I might love you,” she said, slowly withdrawing from his lips.

“I’m glad you reconsidered your earlier insecurities.” He smiled. “I am afraid of that as well.”

She sighed. “Why must we fear such a thing? Is it not natural for us to fall in love?”

“The world will seek to tear us apart, as it does with all things. We must do all we can with the time that is afforded to us.”

She nodded, resting her head back against his chest, listening to his heartbeat until the steady rhythm lulled her back into sleep._  
_


	4. Those Damned Uniforms

It had all started with those damnable uniforms.

Josephine had _insisted _that they all match.

“We’re a military organization. We need to present a united front.”

She shrugged. “But red isn’t even our _color. _These look… awful. Not form-fitting at all.”

Josephine had sighed. “You’re not _supposed _to be attractive. You’re the Inquisitor. The Herald of Andraste. You’re _supposed _to be holy.”

Rolling her eyes, Inquisitor Lavellan turned around facing the mirror. “I hardly even look a woman in this thing. You can’t even tell that I have breasts, Josie.”

“You _need _to understand that this is more than just a party. We’re going to be representing all of the Inquisition in front of some of the most powerful individuals in Thedas. If we look weak, they will prey upon us, and our cause is lost before we’ve begun.”

She nodded. “I know. But could they at least be in green?”

“No! Green is associated with the Dalish. Absolutely not. Under no circumstances.”

“It _does _bring out my eyes.”

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll wear your silly outfit and dance like a trained monkey then, I suppose.” She began shrugging off the red and gold uniform, shaking her head. “For being the Inquisitor, it seems I have precious little power against my inner circle.”

“Trust me, Inquisitor. This will be best. Thedas won’t remember that you wore a silly outfit when you’ve saved them all from Corypheus. Think on it.” Josephine took her clipboard and left the room, leaving her standing in her underclothes. Frowning, she folded up her new outfit and placed it on her desk.

* * *

The court herald had announced them each in turn, guests of the Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. They were all lauded, except for Solas and Sera, though this was clearly by the latter’s own choosing. The title they had given him infuriated her. She was ready to make an appearance they’d not be likely to forget.

She gave Eris Hawke a grin, which the woman returned heartily. She raised her hands, clapping twice. All noise was pulled from the room as though through a vacuum. Silence replaced the chattering of nobles and the thrumming strings of the orchestra. All of the dancing stopped around them, as the room turned to stare.

Dorian gave her a wink, snapping his fingers together.

She heard a deep low rumbling.

Vivienne raised her staff, hitting it against the marble floor. The entire party sparkled before their outfits changed completely, the red and gold uniforms fading away. She was wearing a sheer, thin dress that clung tightly to her skin, exposing her thighs and a fair amount of her chest. She pulled her hair out of its bun, letting her curls hang freely down her back.

The rest of the party was similarly clad. They’d even bribed Cullen to wear trousers which were by all accounts, more tight than his muscles probably should have allowed. Blackwall and Varric’s chest hair was on ample display. Dorian could hardly be said to be wearing a top at all.

But the elves’ outfits were her favorite of all. She and Eris had worked with Vivienne to design them especially to accent their slender features. Fenris looked brilliant, his usual tights slashed at the knees and across the thighs, exposing his rippling muscles. She could see what her friend found appealing in him. Solas’s clothing she had been particular about. She knew that he would prefer something simple, something that would hide him away. It was her duty that the rest of the Inquisition, indeed all of Orlais, saw him as more than just her ‘elven manservant’. She bristled at the thought. He wore a long, silver robe, delicately embroidered with gold leafing. The coat extended long past his legs. She had not permitted him to wear an undershirt, leaving the muscles of his chest exposed. She was _certain _that nobody had expected to look half as good as he did. Except for her. She knew better.

Josephine looked on at them, horrified, the entire circle of the Inquisition in the middle of the floor of the Winter Palace, looking like a band of sexually active homeless teenagers.

And then Sera stepped forward and yelled, “get sodded, you masked pricks!”

A disembodied voice began singing in Orlesian and she raised her arms up in the air, moving her shoulders and hips to the beat of the music. Her eyes caught Eris’s and they started to sing along, neither of them knowing the words. But they had been practicing, each of them.

_Tu verras c'est ta chance_

_Les gens viennent ici et tout recommence_

_Au milieu des bruits de la ville_

_Toi t'arrivais toute timide_

_Perdue dans le décor_

_Le cœur en l'air et les yeux qui dévorent_

_Toutes les saveurs de la ville_

_Qui t'appelaient entre ses lignes_

She didn’t even bother to look at the nobles, but she could imagine their faces. And Josephine’s. Something between abject terror and enjoyment.

Because she knew that they were a sight to see.

The Inquisitor and her companions practically exuded sex as easily as they breathed.

As the chorus hit, she had turned to Dorian, who spun her around, dancing far too close for courtly propriety. She ran her hands against his bare chest, smiling and thinking on the rumors they’d be starting with this little display. He kissed her on the mouth, hands on her hips as they swayed to the rhythm that was pulsating through the hall.

Sera was flailing around, spinning faster than should have been legal. She was honestly surprised that her fists didn’t connect with any of their colleagues. The woman was a ball of energy. Before they’d hit the end of the first chorus, she’d already grabbed the ass (or something else) of nearly everyone in their party.

And then she turned to Solas, winking. She mouthed the words ‘manservant, my ass’ and extended a hand, allowing him to pull her against his chest. Her arms landed against his shoulders, wrapping around him tightly, his muscles taught against her skin. She could almost feel them through the thin fabric separating them. He ran a hand through her hair and placed the other on her lower back. She kissed him then, fully, passionately, and she could _hear _the gasp from the room. When she pulled way, she had time for only a quick breath before he was on her again, swaying with her.

And she turned her back to him, pressing his hands against her chest. She danced up against him and could _feel _his arousal. And she was damned sure that anyone looking could see it as well.

_And let them stare at the Dalish bitch and her elven lover. The prophet of their silly religion, dancing like a barmaid at their most exclusive party. Let them wonder at me. Let them wonder at us all. They’ll look, they’ll talk, and they’ll fantasize. There won’t be a single head in this room who wouldn’t wish to be us._

She spared a glance to poor Josephine, who had finally sat. Shaking her head, the Antivian woman grimaced. She could almost see her eyes rolling from there.

_And who said that an Orlesian party couldn’t be interesting?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Varric may have taken some liberties with this chapter. A ridiculous idea that my discord sort of fueled and expanded into this insanity. Featuring the wonderful Lethendralis's Eris Hawke and Fenris.
> 
> Mostly I just wanted the Inquisition gang looking ridiculously attractive in front of a bunch of cranky Orlesians. Aryll Lavellan is the biggest troll in Thedas.
> 
> Dareth shiral, friends.  
-MP


	5. Elvhen Ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tiniest and most ridiculous of chapters for you, from a discussion I had with Lethendralis about elves and fandom's obsession with their ears. :)

Dorian pulled out a chair and sat gently, like a leaf landing upon the glassy surface of a pond. The others were busy reading, but he had no book in hand and quickly tired of the silence.

The mage turned to Solas, who was absently drawing runes in the air and humming softly. “We’re friends, yes?”

Solas closed his book to look at him. “Do you need something?”

“That hurts.” Dorian clutched his chest like he’d been struck by a stray bolt from Bianca. 

Solas simply raised his eyebrows. 

“Okay, I have a question for you.” He looked around the room at the other three elves. “For all of you, actually.”

“Well, you’d best say it so that we can decide whether it deserves a response.”

“So… I heard something… About your ears and…”

Solas rolled his eyes with such force it was nearly audible. “You realize that’s a common misconception, right? I can almost guarantee that those of elvhen descent do not find anything to do with their ears any more erotic than anyone else. It wasn’t until_ you humans_ interacted with us that those rumors even started.”

Fenris chuckled. “Eris thought the same thing, actually. I felt bad telling her, so I kept my mouth shut until she started sucking on them and I couldn’t suppress my laughter any longer.”

“Poor Eris…” Aryll laughed. “She’s so well-intentioned.”

“But then I got down to the neck..” Eris chirped. “And you positively _melted_. I’ve never seen someone… and so quickly…”

Fenris’s face turned scarlet. “You didn’t need to tell _everyone, _you know.”

Eris grinned wickedly. “It isn’t my fault. My mother had quite a few books on the subject hidden away, but I managed to find them when we moved to Hightown. She was not pleased.”

Solas sighed. “Fabrications, all. Humans and their odd preferences…”

Merrill looked up from her book. “What are you all talking about?”

Aryll took Merrill’s hand. "Want to help me try an experiment?”

Everyone turned to stare at the two women. 

Solas’s face had turned a very slight shade darker than white. ”Um… vhenan?”

Aryll cackled, kissing Merrill on the forehead. “I am only _joking_. You lot… So sensitive.”

Merrill seemed slightly disappointed

"Besides,” she continued, softly. “I know it’s not me you’ve had your eye on!” Aryll winked as another figure entered the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dareth shiral, friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [JohaerysLavellan](https://johaeryslavellan.tumblr.com/) for the lovely prompt:  
"There's only a handful of people in this world that I actually like. You may or may not be one of them." For Solas and your Lavellan!


End file.
